FicWad

"I'm the only who thinks it's ironic that even though we're called The Summer League, all we play are weird-ass emo songs?" Spencer asks from his spot behind the drum set.

"Isn't that the point?" Ryan counters in a bored voice. He's mildly offended by Spencer's description of their music, but they've been best friends since they were ten so it's okay for him to say those sorts of things.

Brent looks up from tuning his bass. He's the awkward, social misfit of their group. "I thought it was because we started this band over the summer," he says in a confused voice.

"But there's absolutely no meaning in that," Trevor, the last member of their little band, argues back. "There should be something deeper about our name than that."

Ryan smiles to himself. At least someone else sees it my way, he thinks, rocking back and forth on his toes, humming to himself, lost in his own world as usual.

"Aw, Brent, all the guitarists in our band are crazy," Spencer says with a laugh.

"Actually it's probably a good thing Ryan's so crazy," Brent says, smirking. "How else do you think he writes the all songs that he does?"

Ryan rolls his eyes at that one, because he can remember when he wrote his first song; two years ago after he pulled muscle by attempting a yoga position that was past his flexibility. Stuck in bed for a week, the boy had turned to writing to keep the voices at bay.

"Are we going to practice or our we going to sit here arguing about Ryan's sanity?" Trevor asks in a voice that almost rivals Ryan's in its monotony, and after a couple seconds of deliberation, the boys decide to go with practicing.

"That was good, you guys," Ryan says, breathing heavily after singing his heart out. He's sixteen-years-old, unsure of his place in the world, but he knows that he can experiment with his inelegant voice in front of his three closest friends. "Same time tomorrow?"

A general murmur of agreement ripples through the other three boys, and instruments get packed, good-byes are said, and everyone goes their separate ways.

Ryan and Trevor live in the same direction and they usually walk home together with their guitars slung over their shoulders, but today, something is telling Ryan that he shouldn't wait for Trevor, that he should just start walking and hope that Trevor doesn't catch up with him.

Trevor catches up with him before Ryan's even reached the end of the block. "Hey, what's the hurry?" Trevor asks, keeping his voice friendly.

Ryan shrugs and Trevor's used to his non-answers and sullen silences, and they walk in silence for while until Trevor decides to ask another question—

"Are you gay?"

Ryan freezes, whipping around to glare at Trevor. "What the hell?!" he explodes, raging and seething at his friend.

"Are you?" Trevor asks calmly. "Because, you know, you're not exactly overflowing with manliness, and, you know, you wrote a song with the line 'I'm a diva!' in it. Just… saying…"

"Why are you asking?" Ryan hisses and he looks for all the world like a cornered cat.

Trevor reaches for Ryan's face and, eyes stretched wide with fear, kisses him. "That's why." he whispers and lets the other boy go.

"Wait… you're gay?" Ryan mumbles uncertainly.

"Or something like that."

The two boys are eyeing each other now, afraid and shy and maybe just a little bit excited.

"So what are we now?" Ryan asks suddenly.

"What?"

"What are we now? Are we friends or are we boyfriends now?" Ryan asks with a surprising lack of insecurity.

Trevor hesitantly takes Ryan's hand in his. "C-Can we be boyfriends?" he asks in a small voice.

Ryan nods, smiles, and kisses the other boy. "Yeah," he whispers. "But we can't tell anyone else."